


tis but a scratch

by jade304



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: F/M, Minor Injuries, somewhat ooc narration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 09:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade304/pseuds/jade304
Summary: Angelus is honestly trying to help. Caim is just...like that.





	tis but a scratch

**Author's Note:**

> what rating do you use for licking someone in a weirdly horny sorta way? asking for a friend.

Okay – the dragon kind of has a point. He _really_ needs to stop staring and gloating over things he’s killed. It’s fun, sure, but it’s also not fun when he’s sitting around at the end of the day hissing through his teeth as he tries to mend the deep gashes on his back.

Everyone else has long since gone to bed – Caim is used to being up at odd hours of the night, and he can’t lie down and get some rest now for obvious reasons. He tears up a spare shirt in place of a proper dressing; not that he should be tearing up their supplies, since the long weeks when they’re separated from the Union is hard on all of them, but medical emergencies and all that. He’s sure they can make use of whatever he doesn’t go through.

He reaches behind himself, trying to feel where the worst of the gashes are; none of them lethal, but they’ll probably grow infected if he doesn’t at least wrap them. His fingers brush the edge of a cut, and he feels fresh blood ooze down his back. He winces.

“Having fun?” A voice rumbles behind him. He shoves the dragon’s commentary aside. Everyone else might be asleep, but of course _she_ isn’t. He isn’t even sure that dragons need to sleep – every time he wakes during the night, she’s always alert and waiting on guard just outside the space where the humans rest.

_A blast._

“Don’t catch an infection and kill us both.”

He snorts. Tries to weave a bandage around himself and fails. Sighs. This really _would_ be much easier with help, but he can’t really _ask_ any of his companions – Seere still looks a little green at the sight of blood, Arioch would probably try eating him. Leonard probably _could_ help, but his brain goes into static at the mental picture of Leonard of all people putting hands on him. Verdelet the same.

So he’s going to have to suffer this one in silence again.

The dragon huffs behind him; Caim hears her crawl up behind him. It still puts a small pit of fright in his chest whenever she does that. If he thinks too much, he can still remember the crunch of teeth and claws, the burst of flesh and blood. He tries really hard not to think too much.

His brain drops very far off the edge of not thinking when he feels a gentle prod of warmth at his back.

He immediately jerks away; the bandages fall from his lap into the dirt. He whirls around so fast it makes his head spin. The dragon sits there, staring at him, the tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth.

_What are you doing?_

“Helping. Since you’re getting nowhere fast on your own.”

His back stings where she’d...licked him? _Licked him._ She looks completely serious about this.  
_And...this helps...how?_

“Do you trust me or not?”  
He still isn’t sure if he trusts her at all, but self-preservation at least guarantees that whatever she does to him won’t kill him. Their lives are bound to each other, like it or not.

Caim turns back around. He can feel the dragon’s breath on the back of his neck, and has to swallow down the churning feeling in his stomach. Riding her is one thing, having her stand behind him while he’s wounded and vulnerable is an entirely different beast.

Her tongue licks a long, slow line down one of the gashes on his back, and he twists in place. She quietly urges him to sit still, but it _stings_ where her tongue meets his open flesh.

She pulls back from him a little, giving him a second, before she laps at another gouge. This one is one of the worse ones, and she moves a bit gentler, but he still shuffles in place a bit uncomfortably as the dragon goes. Her tongue is ever-so-slightly rough, and he can feel the bumps and ridges of it as it swipes over his skin. Cold would be better for his wounds, but her mouth is hot – not terribly so, but like sinking into a still-too-hot bath. He relaxes into it.

This is definitely high on the list of scenarios Caim didn’t expect himself getting into. The dragon says nothing as she goes, gently cleaning up the mess inflicted on him. It might actually be very close to number one on the list.

Her tongue catches on the edge of one of his wounds, and Caim _whines._

He tenses up, immediately, because the dragon is _that close_ to him and if she didn’t hear him make noise, she’s absolutely felt him flinch. But she says nothing, keeps at her task, wholly professional.

He can’t really relax after that; he’s hyper-aware of every drag of her tongue across his skin. She works at a scrape closer to his waist, and he has to dig his nails into his thighs to keep from making a noise. He has a sudden, inexplicable mental picture of what it would be like if she just looped around and had her tongue on the front of him. He arches his back, and a small whine escapes him.

 _What?_ She asks, entirely through their mental link, and for some reason that makes him burn for other reasons besides pain. She absolutely knows what’s going on by now – there’s no way that she _can’t,_ he realizes, since they feel all of what the other does. He isn’t sure whether that applies to _this_ or not, but if pain does, so might this. Embarrassment is all that keeps him in check as he replies, entirely casually,

_It’s fine._

She huffs in amusement. Gods damned _dragon._

The dragon pulls her tongue up his back, and now he _does_ make a small noise in his throat, because it’s the spot where he was injured that he nearly died. The wound itself, of course, is long since healed and scarless – pact magic had mended it entirely as if it wasn’t there. But it isn’t a pain that he’s going to forget anytime soon, and she traces the exact place that it once was with a bit of added pressure. He’s relatively sure he wasn’t slashed there today. She licks a path up to his shoulder, and practically _boops_ him on the side of the neck with the tip of her tongue.

And then the dragon pulls back like she didn’t just do that. Caim shivers, suddenly exposed to the cool night’s air. He turns around to look at her; she’s looking at him with the same disinterested look as always. There’s a smudge of blood, his blood, on the side of her mouth. She doesn’t seem to notice it, but Caim can’t pull his eyes away from it.

“There,” she says, out loud again. “Maybe now at least you won’t catch ill and die a slow death that way.”

He isn’t really sure how to respond. She takes it for his usual silence, and retreats back to her place just outside the camp. She doesn’t sleep, but she goes back to silence and ignoring him just the same.

He lets out a long, shaky sigh. Tries to will his pulse back to normal. Goes back to trying to dress his wounds.

This is fine.


End file.
